


A Wineglass of Blood

by Cadaverish



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Dark Will, Gore, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cadaverish/pseuds/Cadaverish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to this prompt: Hannibal knows that Will gets off on getting into the mind of murderers. So he starts leaving gruesome, mutilated corpses in easy to find places to give Will something to 'get into'.</p><p>Bonus if a particularly horrid murder results in multiple rounds of rough Hannibal/Will sex </p><p>on the hannibal kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wineglass of Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Рюмка крови](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282541) by [Ardel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardel/pseuds/Ardel)



> Yo yo, first time writing for this fandom, so please excuse me while I wiggle into these new people suits. Comments are cuddled, loved, and slathered in affection, kudos are counted, lined on the wall, and polished regularly.

Hannibal understood that his relationship with Will Graham would involve a certain quantity of half truths and white lies from the first time they became acquainted and Hannibal asked him about eye contact. It was clear the reasons Will gave were true, but incomplete. At the time, Hannibal had no guess to what the remaining reasons might be, but he did know that Will was someone worth keeping under watch. 

Watching Will over the impaled mockery of the Shrike, Hannibal knew that the omitted reason had something to do with the work. He tried to bring the...something that he saw in Will into focus, but Will had long practice keeping it hidden and it eluded Hannibal. To his mortification, it took him until Tobias' cello to see what Will was so carefully veiling, but then he saw. He saw so clearly and wondered if this was how Will felt when he looked at a crime scene. The only question that remained was what he was going to do about it. 

Now that he knew what he was looking for, it seemed obvious. Will's heartbeat picked up, his pupils dilated. If he got close enough, Hannibal could smell it on him: arousal. He wondered what it was that made a good killer for Will. He felt a pang when he decided that it was likely not the artistry of his corpses, that it was more probably something baser. 

The only thing to do with a hypothesis like that was to test it, and so Hannibal devised and executed a number of experiments. He acquires an accountant with sharp heels and no concept of how to keep them off his toes, a park ranger with regrettable antiquated prejudices, and, because this is a project for Will, a dog groomer with unscrupulous practices. These he left for Crawford and his passel of clowns to find in varying stages of alteration. 

The accountant had simply been killed, skewered through the heart with a stainless steel rod and left to lean in full rigor in her place of work. Will stared at the hole in her chest as she lay on the operating table and Hannibal distantly heard him decide that it was indeed the Ripper's work, although it took Price and Zeller some time to find the fine stitching under her left arm.  
The park ranger he hung from a tree overhanging a trailhead at Pisgah National Park, stomach opened but entirely cleaned out, eyes missing. He was gruesome, but bloodless. Will inspected this gift carefully, running his gloved fingers over the neat grooves in the man's empty belly, and remarked on the clear lacquer used to hold him open. Then he stroked the grooves again when Jack's lackeys were looking elsewhere. Hannibal felt generous, powerful, doting. He waited impatiently for the day on which he would present his third gift to arrive, and felt a bit like a child on Christmas Eve.

To be fair, the dog groomer was a tour de force, a masterpiece even by Hannibal's standards, if not entirely to his taste. The man looked like a doll coming apart at the seams. Hannibal had carefully split his limbs open, teased apart muscle groups and drug them out to gleam wetly crimson in the dim light of a local humane society. He's sewn buttons onto the man's eyes, stitched his fingers together and then his hands to the heart he had removed from the empty chest cavity (the lungs he reserved for supper, an indulgence). Will stared, eyes hooded, lips parted, practically vibrating with excitement. Hannibal could not resist stepping up behind him, ostensibly looking over his shoulder, but instead taking in Will's heavy, heady scent. 

Hannibal realized abruptly that Will was watching him from the corner of his eyes, still quietly shaking. "You did this on purpose," Will whispered so low, so quiet. Hannibal stilled, his head suddenly dark and cold with his own arrogance, his foolishness. "You better be prepared to deal with the consequences," Will told him darkly. Hannibal clenched his hands, his breath was coming quicker. But Will was already calling out "this one isn't the Ripper, Jack," and he turned, walking away, body coming back under control. Will's posture was subdued, quiet, his usual meek self. Hannibal saw now, saw the mask, knew suddenly that Will is every bit the faker that he is. Hannibal took a moment to bring himself back under control. He excused himself, leaning against his car in the picture of disturbed sorrow, but typing out a text to Will Graham. 

**dinner?**  
_not hungry_  
Hannibal, wondering what game Will was playing, licked his lips, thinking of a rejoinder, but another text lit up his phone.  
_i'll be there at 7_

Hannibal smiled. 

Will didn't even both to knock, letting himself into Hannibal's house quietly. He was dressed only in a clinging t-shirt and fraying, sagging jeans. Hannibal started to offer a teasing protest, but then Will was on him. It was like being hit by a tidal wave. Will's mouth is heavy, hot, gasping, his lips slid wetly. Will pushed himself back from Hannibal with a snarl, grabbed Hannibal by his shirt and fixed him with a stare that was darker and wilder than Hannibal had ever dared to dream. "Tell me you want this," Will growled. He pressed his mouth back towards Hannibal, not quite touching, sharing his breath. Hannibal braced his feet, locked his hands behind the small of Will's back, and hauled them together, grinding their groins together roughly. It's shockingly, alarmingly good: Hannibal's head had never felt so full. Will snarled into his mouth, Hannibal could feel the vibration shared between their ribs, and then he is abruptly being propelled backwards, being slammed in the wall and held there with finely boned hands. He became acutely aware of the muscles cording Will's arms, usually hidden beneath his flannels and jackets.

"Tell me," Will growls again, his mask had completely fallen away. Hannibal gloried in seeing the wolf he knew lurked beneath the man. "For God's sake, Will," Hannibal mumbled thickly, transfixed, "yes." He sucked in a deep breath, "yes, I want this, I want-" but then Will was turning them, taking Hannibal over his shin, taking him down to the floor. If Hannibal hadn't been knocked right out of his person suit, he would object to being taken like a beast in the foyer, but he was completely gone, offering himself to the jaws of Will's wolf with a feeling like giddiness. 

"You little cocktease," Will was rumbling, making short work of Hannibal's vest, his shirt, the flies of his trousers. "You know what your work does to me. Could've just shown me on our own," and was that thought as much as Will's calloused hands running down the rungs of his ribs that made Hannibal roll back his head and moan, "instead you go ahead and turn me on," this Will punctuated by gripping his cock through the fabric of his underwear, "in front of Jack, in front of everyone." Will's teeth were at the join of his neck and shoulder, biting hard, clamping his jaws. It was a pinching fire in Hannibal, but the feeling of wet hot blood running down his back, dripping onto his fine floor with its bespoke tiles was unexpectedly powerful.

"You know how hard it was not to do this right there in the," Will huffed something that might have been trying to be a laugh, "in the crime scene?"  
"How hard," and his fingers were hooked into Hannibal's underwear, dragging them off his hips. Will's teeth followed the line of his legs and his hands jerked at his shoes, socks, "it always is not to take you when you give me your gifts?" Hannibal's only remaining clothing was his shirt, opened over his wet chest, the starched collar was bloodstained and scraped perfectly against the bite mark Will had cut into his neck. 

"And your fucking cannibal puns," Will murmured around the bone of his ankle, biting lightly before moving back up to kiss his lips, all bestial grace and smooth muscle, "I have to keep quiet, keep my face perfectly still," he moved his hands to Hannibal's wrists, and slammed them against the tiles with a burst of pain. "Some night I'm gonna laugh Hannibal, I'm gonna laugh and laugh," Will was gathering his legs under him self, crouching over Hannibal with his ass so close, so close. "And let me tell you, you're going to have to explain it away because I'm sure as fuck not being held responsible," Hannibal's hips were jerking upwards blindly, looking for any source of friction or heat. 

Will seated Hannibal inside him so suddenly Hannibal forgot to breathe. Will was hot, tight, and slick. The thought pierced through the warm fog of arousal: Will had driven over, stopped to slick himself up, finger himself open, had maybe done it right in the car. Had slipped into Hannibal's house already open and dripping beneath those awful jeans. Hannibal was reaching up with his mouth, trying to draw Will into another kiss because their joining was going to be an embarrassingly short-lived if the pulse in his cock is anything to go on. Will dodged his mouth, and instead brought it down to the bitten open hole in his neck. He dragged his tongue wetly across it, then tongued the individual marks. Hannibal could feel his orgasm rushing forwards, and when Will pushed their mouths back together and Hannibal could taste the iron shared between their tongues, it overtakes him.

Will let him finish, clenching his muscles, helping Hannibal through it. He was pressing soft kisses to Hannibal's lips. His eyes were hazed and locked on Hannibal's face.  
Hannibal fell boneless against the sweat-slick tile. Will slipped him out of his body, and climbed back up to perch on his chest. Hannibal watched in bleary awe as Will jerked himself off quickly, with rough efficiency. When he comes Hannibal opens his mouth obligingly even as Will lay a calloused, hot hand over his eyes to protect them. 

They lay there for a few more heartbeats, letting their bodies cool, the pounding of their hearts relax. Hannibal and Will stood together, moving stiffly and slowly to the couch in Hannibal's sitting room. Will was thoughtful enough to bring his t-shirt and sit on that as the come dripped out of him.

"How long have you known?" Hannibal asked him quietly in the dark, utterly unable to summon the energy to turn on a light. 

Will laughed, not unkindly. "I'm a perfect empath, and you made eye contact with me." His warm hand soothed the tensing muscles in Hannibal's back. They sat in the dark for a long time.


End file.
